


fools gold

by Pumprince



Series: stories in the stars (oneshots/drabbles) [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Feelings, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Matt is sad, Mild Language, Rewrite, Smoking, Stargazing, Unrequited Love, and kind of angry, i rewrote this from an old version
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 14:38:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15753735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pumprince/pseuds/Pumprince
Summary: I'm sure you don't knowthat todayI couldn't sleep again//Matt just can't seem to let him go.





	fools gold

**Author's Note:**

> this used to actually be Matt Angst with implied shotor that i wrote and posted on a different site AGES ago, but since the new season I adjusted a few things so its Matt Angst with implied SHADAM

The stars are the only ones who witness shuddering breaths and tears blinked away. They help him forget the way he saw _him_ brushing lips with another, exactly like the way Matt had dreamt he’d do to him. Sadly, the twinkling lights billions of light years away are the only source of comfort Matt can think of.

He is cold without his sweater, having forgotten it inside the building during his hasty retreat, so he mimics the way he'd seen the lovers ghost their warm palms over each other's arms. Except his touch is more of an icy prick, leaving a trail of goose-skin as he tries to rub warmth into himself. He is cold, but it's a different cold from when he remembers spending lonely nights longing for a certain someone to hold him.

Matt releases a breath into the night sky, watching the small puff of vapour disappear behind his view of the clouds.

Behind him he can hear the clinking of glasses and music, and the sounds of conversations- the likes of which he can't enter without every single word reminding Matt of Him.

A plane crosses his view, blinking its lights at him, and Matt pretends it's the shooting star he needs. He doesn't wish for the superficial things like a new car, or fancier clothes, he simply wishes for something requited. He knows wishes carried on a facade can't really come true, and neither can wishes in general. But Matt still likes to think that they do, to fool himself into a false sense of security considering nobody else will.

He fishes a box out from his back pocket, leaning against the railing of the balcony as he eyes the lighter and "death-sticks" kept in the packet. It's a habit his father would surely scold him for, and a habit that he knows his mother wouldn't expect of him, but he finds that he doesn't give a single fuck as he places a stick between his lips and cups the end of it with his hand and a lighter.

In a few quick flicks, he drags in a breath then pushes it out and watches the smoke tumble over itself, before ultimately disappearing.

Just as Matt is slipping the box back into his pocket, he hears the balcony door slide open- sound from inside spilling out- and then slide shut. He doesn't turn to greet the person, just hopes they'll mind their own business and leave him to his own devices- he also hopes they don't stay outside for too long.

"I didn't take you for a smoker," is the deep voice that surprises him, and he doesn't turn to look who it is because he knows it's Him; Takashi. Said man leans on the railing next to him, and Matt turns his head away as he takes the cigarette from between his lips. "Why are you out here? Not gonna enjoy the reunion?"

Matt can tell this is a ploy to get him to look at him, but he just waves the hand that is currently holding the cigarette, "I'm out here _because_ I'm smoking, you?"

"Oh, yeah, came out for a smoke myself."

This catches Matt's attention and he turns to address the other properly.

"I left my pack at home, so could I trouble you to spare me one?" Takashi asks. Matt stares at him, repressing the urge to squint as if he was some inner-city cop interrogating a teenager. He simply presses the stick back between his lips to suck in a breath and then blows it in Takashi's face. The man frowns, and Matt catches the corners of his own lips turn up in amusement.

"I know you don't smoke, Shirogane," he chitters, prying his eyes away from the other's deep ebony irises. He doesn't miss the way Takashi's shoulders seem to drop when he calls him by his last name.

Takashi sighs, but it sounds fond and Matt can see him smiling in his peripheral. It strikes a pain deep in his chest, and he drops his gaze to the ground below them. The silence engulfs the two, but all Matt can hear is the roaring of his heart in his ears, so loud that he wonders if Takashi can hear it.

"You don't need your glasses anymore?" Says the man, inquiring about Matt's lack of circle-rimmed glasses. Matt shakes his head ever so slightly.

"I switched to contacts," he replies, and Takashi hums afterwards.

There is a question, an itch, that Matt can feel hanging in the air between them; like the pendulum of a grandfather clock ticking down to a crucial moment. Matt doesn't want to wait for that crucial moment, he drops his barely-finished cigarette on the floor of the balcony and presses it against the marble with the heel of his boot.

He turns to leave, planning on leaving the other man to the stars and the whispering winds. But it seems He has other plans and reaches out to grab at Matt, gently but with enough purpose to stop the sandy-haired male in his retreat.

When Matt carries his gaze over to Takashi, he accidentally locks gazes and for a second it feels like he was never rejected back in their junior year, the drunken kiss never happened, and the guilty confessions of "I don't like you like that" were never sang. But Matt knows; knows he isn't a tall, charming man with chocolate brown hair and vibrant auburn irises. He isn't a handsome face or witty humour. He isn't the one who this man loves.

So he tears his arm away almost violently, honey irises pooling with hurt and an accusing glare fixed on the taller man.

"I just," Takashi starts, stumbling over his words as Matt watches him expectantly, "Wanted... wanted to know if you still..."

Love me?

Takashi trails off but Matt hears the question loud and clear. He feels there's nothing harmful in the purpose of the question, it's more of a concerned voice telling him he shouldn't hang on to this.

But, still, it’s kind of a dick move, and he doesn't recognise his own voice when he answers,

"No. I don't."

**Author's Note:**

> the few lines in the description are the translated lyrics from Nanou's Yurayura (Swaying) sung by Soraru


End file.
